


Midnight Ice Cream

by Winter_Genisis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Budding Love, M/M, Sexual Themes, Tumblr Prompt, discussion of sex, frienemies, fuck buddies, minimal weight shaming if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4473959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Genisis/pseuds/Winter_Genisis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a RusAme oneshot I just wrote based on a prompt... They have a casual relationship, but both seem to notice that feelings are starting to get involved. Prompt: Imagine your OTP waking up at the same time for a midnight snack and Person B scares Person A. Reviews would be appreciated since I'm not accustomed to short oneshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to Hetalia
> 
> Beta: starglow13 (ffn)
> 
> Rated T for sexual themes
> 
> Prompt: Imagine your OTP* waking up at the same time for a midnight snack, and Person B scares Person A.
> 
> *RusAme is not my OTP, but I enjoy the pairing and it worked well for this little oneshot.

Alfred was awoken for the second time that night by a growling stomach. He groaned quietly, rolling over and hesitantly cracking open blue eyes, hazed with sleep. At quite an inopportune moment, his stomach was communicating that it desperately needed food, and now. He had no choice but to rise and get something to eat.

The American flapped his arms aound him a little bit, his fingertips brushing the carpet around the air mattress blindly for his glasses. When he placed Texas on the bridge of his nose, his now heightened gaze swung lazily over to the man sleeping in the real bed. He was large and bulky - that much was obvious - but he was sleeping peacefully... if the steady rise and fall of the blankets draped over body were any indicator to this. The American rolled out of bed, sleepily pulling himself off of the floor. Shadows were strewn about the room like webbing, and for a moment, his gaze fell on the Russian again, thinking sardonically that perhaps Ivan had entangled him. Despite the shadows and utter darkness, however, Alfred's eyes were quickly adjusting, and he silently stepped over to the side of the bed. He lifted a hand, his fingers not a milimeter away from entangling themselves that soft, silvery-blond mop of hair, when he stopped himself.

He'd thought Ivan was older, wiser. But he was foolish. Letting the  _enemy_ sleep in the same room. Letting his guard down so easily. (Was Ivan underestimating him?  _Mocking_ him?)

But the boy was being rather hypocritical, as was indeed his wont at times. After all, Alfred had gone right to sleep himself, having no thought for such things as "friends" or "enemies" or getting the jump on Ivan. He was jetlagged and had a headache. But still, he'd indeed been shocked to hear that the Russian was the first to suggest he sleep in his own room, since he'd had no other rooms prepared for a guest. The meeting they were both attending in the morning had been last minute, after all. Well, for the Nations, this was the way it seemed. They hadn't expected to go at all and thought little of it until their leaders decided otherwise. Needless to say, both were rather displeased by the short-noticed turn of events.

Alfred stretched his arms up over his head, still studying the larger man.

When he'd arrived that night, Ivan's purplish orbs met his own sky blue ones in a way that made him shiver - a feeling Alfred hasn't since forgotten

They had fooled around before. It wasn't a secret, but it certainly wasn't anyone's business, either. Despite Ivan's distant, nonchalant exterior, Alfred detected these little fragments that lacked his usual cold and inhospitible, desolate façade. What was left underneath that was a sarcastic and very lonely and broken man. It was the little things he'd been noticing lately: they way that Ivan always seemed to ease his posture when Francis or Antonio asked him what he thought about a subject he hadn't weighed in on, the way he'd go stiff and taut as though he were ready to either pounce on or flee around Gilbert, and the way... the way that he didn't like sweet things. Alfred had learned that, too.

He was slow on the uptake for a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid and was always hypervigilant around his lasting enemy from the Cold War years. This made him much quicker to notice things, and much more prone to seeing those stupid little tidbits that he would never have noticed otherwise...

But it seemed like things had changed a bit between the two. Alfred pondered this as he wandered down the long, open hallway, feet descending the large and ornate wooden staircase. The high ceiling and open spaces in the room gave it a haunted feel; the blond felt as though he'd be able to hear every creak, every whisper from all over the house. Through the dark expanse of the home he made his way into the kitchen. The American wondered if Ivan ever did these things - sneaking down for a midnight snack - then quickly assured himself that no, of course he wouldn't.

Alfred withdrew a sizeable container of ice cream from the freezer. He'd brought it from the airport, and Ivan had simply rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about Americans and their weights and their choices in foods, but Alfred could've sword he'd seen the corner of his lips pull up just so - the threat of a smile.

Upon closing the door of the freezer, he came face to face with weary, violet eyes. Alfred gave an unmanly shriek, nearly throwing the tub of ice cream at Ivan.

The Russian snorted. "I thought you were up to something when I didn't see you in your bed." He murmured, eyeing the ice cream distastefully.

Alfred stuck his lower lip out, as if to pout, chewing on it as he swiftly turned around. "Shut up and tell me where your utensils are. At least you're up so I don't have to rummage through your whole damn kitchen." He stood up a little straighter. He did  _not_ want Ivan to see him as a child... Even though he was acting like one. They were  _equals_.

Ivan simply "hmph"ed in acknowledgement, grabbing a spoon and tossing it to Alfred. He caught it easily, jamming it into the frozen treat with a good amount of force so that he'd actually get some on his spoon. Fresh out of the freezer, it was pretty solid.

"So..." Alfred mumbled, spoon still occupying his mouth. "You staying up now, or what?" Ivan began to slowly walk towards him. "I, uh. I know we got that meeting tomorrow; I didn't mean to wake you up -" The blond was silenced when Ivan placed his large hands on the counter on either side of Alfred, pinning him and rendering him unable to move. He hugged his ice cream to his chest as though it might protect him from whatever the Russian was thinking of doing, but of course it didn't work. He emitted a soft, surprised sound when Ivan leaned in to lick ice cream from Alfred's lips, and around his mouth.

When he pulled away, Alfred apprehensively pondered whether he desired to jerk the Russian back to his lips, or shove past him to go and eat his ice cream on the couch in peace. The latter would be a normal response to a situation like this. But something told him he should stand his ground, so he stared deeply into Ivan's intense eyes. He wasn't sure what this was about... what it meant. If Ivan just wanted to fuck, he should say so.

Alfred laughed, the sound coming short and harsh from his throat. He wanted to goad Ivan a bit, but what came out was something different. "I thought you hated sweets." He blinked after hearing himself say this. Why would that even matter?

Ivan just smiled. It wasn't his usual, simple smile promising vengeance and pain underneath a childlike innocence. No, this was dark and predatory, and it made Alfred bite his lip in anticipation. He wasn't wrong, then. Ivan was in one of  _those_  moods. He'd have to be careful - sometimes he was harsh and angry and rough, but other times he was casual as can be, or even so far as  _playful._

The Russian dipped down and gave Alfred a hot, passionate kiss, nearly overwhelming the it lasted for only a brief moment, the kiss seemed unending, and when Ivan pulled away, Alfred's knees had grown weak. He tried to hide it, but he felt Ivan already knew.

"Everything is good on you, Fredka," he murmured heatedly against Alfred's lips, and it was then that the boy realized he was still holding the ice cream. He placed it aside on the counter and wrapped his arms around Ivan's neck with a smug smirk. "You think so?" He smelled of vodka, herbal tea and whipping winter winds - a good smell to Alfred.

He wanted to ask Ivan if, in these moments, he saw Alfred, not America. He pressed his lips against the Russian's own, closing his eyes to prevent further thoughts. That path was dangerous territory, and Alfred wasn't sure if he was quite ready to go down it yet.

The American suddenly came to the realization that he would have to end this soon. He could feel himself getting attached, because he was a person with  _needs_  and  _emotions_  and not  _just_  a Nation, but everyone  _saw_ him as a nation and he knew he'd just be making problems for his country by falling for someone like Russia.

Ivan pulled away and nestled his face into the crook of Alfred's neck, giving soft, lazy kisses here and there against his flesh, and Alfred sighed with pleasure, his fingers combing idly through Ivan's hair.

"When are you leaving?"

The question was unexpected, halting Alfred's petting of the other. "Um. I guess tomorrow."

"Mmh."

Alfred trailed his fingers down the nape of Ivan's neck, his fingertips ghosting across the soft hair there. "Why?" He asked, as if this was just idle chitchat. But it wasn't, and he knew it, and Ivan knew it, because there was something heavy in the air - something almost tangible, and it was almost strangling Alfred.

He felt the Russian shrug. "Wondering if...you'd have time." This was the quiet yet stilted response he received.

"Time for what?"

"Me."

"Oh."

There was no response, so Alfred pressed him a bit.

"Do you mean, like, the stuff we do together?"

A snort. "Sex, Alfred. It's called sex."

Alfred's face immediately flared up, a bright blush dusting his cheeks. "Um. Hm. Yeah. Sex. Or I mean," He moved on quickly, "Do you actually like... want to do something?"

A short silence ensued, before Ivan answered, "Can it be both?"

"Sex  _and_  hanging out?"

"Da."

Alfred gently pushed Ivan away, but he was smiling. He took his hand, ice cream forgotten, and began to lead him up to the Russian's room. "We'd better get to sleep," Alfred told him. At Ivan's quickly hidden disappointment, the blond couldn't help but grin devilishly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his lips, nipping them playfully before he pulled away. "We don't wanna be too tired for our plans tomorrow, ya know?"

Alfred felt himself being tugged into Ivan's bed. He tucked himself up against the other man, and even though he wanted to complain that it would be too hot for them to sleep together, his body disregarded his mind and the thoughts that accompanied it. Ivan had his arms wrapped around Alfred's waist, and as he pressed his lips to the blond's neck, Alfred could feel his quiet laughter. "Then sleep, luchik." Ivan mumbled into his hair, right hand entwining with the other's left.

And so he did.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not used to writing oneshots, especially short ones like this, so please leave your thoughts!


End file.
